Forever and Always
by Pestiset
Summary: AU ONESHOT. Four thousand years after an attack on Ithilien, Legolas is still haunted by the memories of his lost love, and has turned to solitude in New Zealand to heal & compose. But how much will this celebration he can't avoid change his world? Leg/OC


**Important - please read: **I have dithered about writing and publishing this, mainly because the last story I wrote for this fandom got flamed terribly, and put me off writing for two years.

This is an AU story, set in present day New Zealand, about Legolas and an OC, and canon has been adjusted accordingly. Please don't flame me about it, you have been warned. _If you don't like these stories, please don't read it. _

Also, there won't be any Elvish in here apart from names, mainly because I don't fully understand how the language works, and I don't want to butcher it in my ignorance.

The locations mentioned e.g. the Wellington Town Hall, and the Intercontinental Hotel are all real.

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR and its associated media and I'm not getting any monetary reward from this.

Quotes: "With a thousand lies and a good disguise" – The Offspring, You're Gonna Go Far, Kid  
"Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelled of elderberries" – Monty Python, Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Forever and Always

Even now, there were days he wanted to go to Valinor, days he wanted to leave the grey mortal world behind. Days like today, for as he turned into the winding driveway of his secluded lakeside villa, he felt sad, and tired. He had just returned to his home on the shores of Lake Taupo, after suffering through a series of concerts in San Francisco, and the Grawemeyer Award ceremony in Chicago.He was glad that he had managed to portray to the world the appearance of a reclusive composer, and as people tend to consider musicians a tad on the strange side, he had been left alone, alone to compose and alone to reminisce. Because of his reclusiveness, he had no need to alter his appearance, beyond keeping his hair cut to a reasonable length, enough to hide the tips of his ears. To anyone who knew what to look for, he remained an elf. As he rounded the final corner and pulled up next to his home, he was struck by the image laid out in front of him, banishing any thought of leaving this world. 'This is why I stay', he thought, as he gazed out over the still blue lake, scraps of mist still clinging to its surface, and the sound of the native birds calling to each other. He turned the car off, and stepped out into the crisp air. This would be perfect, if only she were here. He sighed, and closed the driver side door with a bang.

"Why," he spoke to himself and the Kereru looking at him inquisitively from the branches of the nearby Totara tree, "Do you always have to think of her at moments like this? Can't you just enjoy the beauty, listen to the trees? No, you have to think about Saeleth. It's been four thousand years; you should have healed by now." Dropping his head, he retrieved his suitcase from the car boot and walked into his house. It was time for Legolas, currently known as Liam Carter, award winning composer, to go back to work.

Roughly four hours drive away, the woman, the memories of whom were tormenting Legolas, stood at her kitchen window, her fingers drummed on the granite bench top, a cup of coffee rested in her other hand. What she viewed was infinitely different to what had greeted Legolas on his arrival home, she gazed out over an awakening city, obscured by a grey drizzle, to the muddy turns of the river the city was named after. Unlike him, her profession kept her in the public eye, and she had had to change her appearance accordingly, most obviously the cosmetic surgery she had on her ears six years previously. They were too distinctive to risk people making connections years in the future. She sighed, resting her head against the cool glass of the window. Despite all her successes, she wasn't happy.

She was considered a rarity, she had only recently returned from London after competing in the Olympics. A rarity, because she had done what most fencers couldn't; she had competed in all three individual events, and won them all. Although, after the controversy surrounding it, she decided that she wouldn't attempt to qualify for all of the events at the next Olympiad. She almost hadn't been allowed to compete, but intervention by New Zealand's Government meant that she could. She didn't think it was necessary; she would have withdrawn from the competition gracefully if she hadn't been allowed to compete in anything other than the epee. A rarity, in that when she stood on the podium for the final time and the New Zealand flag was lifted to the ceiling to the national anthem, between the flags of Italy and Germany, the tears in her eyes were not of happiness, or of relief. They were tears of sorrow, because the one person she would have wished to share in her triumph wasn't there, and hadn't been for nearly four thousand years. Another tear slipped from her eye unbidden at that thought. She swiped it away, and swallowed the remainder of her coffee. Dropping the mug into the sink, she turned from the window and left the kitchen. Picking a remote up off the dining room table, she pressed the play button, and Liam Carter's Double Concerto for Violoncello and Tenor Saxophone drifted out of the speakers dotted around the room. Placing the remote back onto the table, she allowed herself a small smile. There was something peaceful about the music; it reminded her of a time long past, a happier time. Actually, there was something about the composer, there wasn't a piece of his music that she hadn't fallen in love with, hadn't gone to see performed. She was glad he was beginning to get recognition for his work, she had read of his award success on the plane back to Auckland. Moving into the living room, she sank down onto her couch, lost in the music. It was the only true peace Saeleth, or in the eyes of the world, Evelyn Darcy, knew now.

The phone rang, startling him out of his reverie with a discordant shriek from his violin. Placing the instrument and its bow safely in its case, he picked up the phone cautiously.

"Liam Carter speaking," he answered.

"Ah Liam, you are home. Excellent." The voice on the other end sounded pleased, Legolas couldn't fathom why.

"May I ask who I'm speaking to?" he asked, trying to keep the scorn from his voice.

"Oh, how terribly impolite of me! I'm Alex Cliffe, calling on behalf of the Prime Minister's office to congratulate you on your recent achievements. Coupled with Evelyn Darcy's Olympic success, you have bought the eyes of the world onto New Zealand and what our small country is capable of."

"Thank you," he replied, unsure whether to be offended that his award was being combined with fencing to bring glamour to the country.

"You are most welcome!" Alex informed him. "You are also invited to a party in yours and Evelyn's honour, being held in a week's time at the Wellington Town Hall. I trust you will be attending?"

Legolas blinked. That was unexpected. "I'm sorry, I'm not a huge fan of parties," he admitted.

"Oh, that's a shame. Nevertheless, I was told to tell you that if you declined, I was to tell you that you are expected to be there, and that funding for your next project might be harder to come by if you don't attend your own party." Alex told him, sounding almost apologetic.

His eyebrows shot up. So, the PM was playing dirty was he? He'd never liked him much anyway, let alone what his party stood for, because in the end, everything came down to money. Admittedly, that was a sign of the times; the economy was still recovering from the recession of 2008/2009. With a sigh, he said to Alex, "Alright, I'll be there. When will I be expected to make an appearance?"

There was a rustle of paper over the line. "The party begins at seven PM on the 25th of August. I'm glad you will be attending, and I suspect that Evelyn will be too. Apparently she is a huge fan of your music. Will you be requiring accommodation in Wellington?"

"No thank you, I can arrange that myself. Thank you very much, goodbye." Legolas hung up, placing the phone back in its charger. As he withdrew his hand, something told him he should find out some more about this Evelyn Darcy. Sitting down at the computer in his study, he did a quick search. He didn't find much, born in 1984, lives in Wanganui, possibly the world's best female fencer across all three disciplines, for she had never competed at a world championship. She had just returned from the London Olympics, where as an internationally unknown competitor, she had won the individual events of the foil, the epee, and the sabre. Several news articles also came up; he selected one with a photo of her standing on the podium, a gold medal hanging around her neck, but a look of sadness in her eyes. He enlarged the picture, and scrutinised it. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His eyes skimmed the ebony hair pulled back in a pony tail, the broken nose, the thin scar on her jaw, but came back to her eyes, and the sadness they held. There was something there, the green was so vibrant. A memory of gazing into green eyes caught him, and he suppressed it instantly. He had no desire to be caught in that memory, Saeleth was long gone. Regardless of any resemblance, Evelyn wasn't her. She couldn't be.

Saeleth hung up the phone, and stood staring at it for a moment. That was quite possibly the strangest conversation she had ever had with anyone. Alex had been full of youthful exuberance, enough to make her feel positively ancient. 'Well,' she amended 'I am totally ancient. I just don't often feel it'. Walking out of the lounge, she headed for the stairs and climbed to the next storey. Strolling into her bedroom, she headed to the recessed closet on the other side of the room. Opening the door, she stepped in, reached up to the ceiling and unhooked a hidden latch. Easing the disguised trapdoor open, she stood on the bottom shelf and hoisted herself into the attic. Crawling through the small space, she crept to the nearest corner. There, a wooden chest rested, engraved with a swirling leaf motif. Stopping next to the chest, she opened the lid, revealing some of the items most precious to her. A tightly woven green grey cloak, still looking as fresh as the day it was made. A mithril brooch in the shape of a twisted knot, only slightly tarnished after millennia hidden away. A pair of well worn soft leather boots, she let her hand lightly brush them, anymore handling and they would disintegrate. A gold and sapphire necklace, a teardrop sapphire held by twisting gold vines that gently tapered off to form a thin chain, designed to fit around her neck perfectly. This she removed, and slipped into the pocket of her jeans. Picking up the cloak from her lap, she went to put it back in the chest when a glint of steel caught her eye. Gently placing the cloak back in the chest, she reached in and pulled out a pair of white knives. Running her thumbs down the scabbards, she traced the embossed design she knew by heart, remembering the night she took them. Rouge Orcs had attacked the colony in Ithilien while her betrothed, Legolas had been in Minas Tirith, visiting his friend Aragorn. She had rushed into his study, pursued by several Orcs, and had grabbed the first weapon that had come to hand. His second best set of knives. The phrase still bought a smile to her face; he had picked it up off the Hobbits, and had continued to apply it in later years. She had killed her pursuers, and run to join the rest of the fray. She was too late, she got there just as the Orcs left, carrying away the three elflings that had been born within the last eighty years. She had grabbed what she would need to survive, and still bearing his knives, she tracked the Orcs southwards, to the lands south of Haradwaith, wild lands that refused to believe that Sauron had been defeated. Eventually she ambushed the Orcs, catching them at a narrow gorge, with fire behind, and her in front. She had fought like a woman possessed, eventually freeing the three elflings from their captivity. Some might wonder why she didn't return to Ithilien once she had rescued them, but travelling with three exhausted and terrified elflings was beyond her comprehension at the time. They settled in a forest near the coast, it took her nearly two lives of men to convince the elflings that they were safe. By that time, she knew that the elves would have faded to legends in the eyes of men, and to go seeking civilisation as elves would be foolish. So, they became human, gently assimilating into the world. They stood by and watched as the old empires crumbled, the earth shifted, the old forests disappeared, and the non human inhabitants vanished. Except for them.

Pulling herself out of her memories, she realised she was crying, hugging the knives to her chest, the only item of his she had anymore. Placing them back in the chest with a final caress, she closed it, and crawled back to the trapdoor. Dropping back onto the floor of the closet, she closed the hanging door, and secured the hidden latch. Reaching into her pocket, she removed the necklace, and gazed at it. She didn't know why she wanted to wear this to the party, but she was going to regardless.

A week later, Legolas found himself wearing a suit he would rather not, and in a conversation with a person he really didn't want to talk to.

"As I was saying Liam," the Prime Minister said, drawing his attention from the punch bowl to the conversation he was meant to be participating in, "It is wonderful that New Zealand is beginning to take its place on the world stage, you and Evelyn are leading the charge. Have you ever met?"

"No, we haven't. I hope we meet tonight actually, I have been looking forward to meeting her." It wasn't entirely a lie. Part of him wanted nothing to do with this woman who reminded him so much of his lost love, but the hidden warrior wanted to meet her, saw someone he could possibly relate to.

The Prime Minister smiled. "I don't think you will need to wait long. Are you aware she is single?"

Legolas' head snapped up. "No I wasn't. If you will excuse me?" He took a couple of steps away, paused and turned back. Raising his glass in a mockery of a toast, he moved to the other side of the room, where there were less dignitaries jostling for his attention. Pausing by the buffet table, he discarded his empty glass and collected a full one. Finishing it in two swallows, he left it on the table, and slotted himself in between a potted palm and the window, out of the way of the other party goers.

Roughly ten minutes later a smattering of applause caused him to focus his attention on the party. The other guest of honour had arrived. Peering out from behind the palm, Legolas caught a flash of sapphire satin and ebony hair as the Prime Minister greeted her, shaking her hand firmly and planting a kiss on her cheek. Moving out from behind the plant to get a better view, he was noticed, and called over by the Prime Minister. Weaving through the crowd, he made his way over to them. As he reached them, the Prime Minister turned to him and said,

"Evelyn, this is Liam Carter. Liam, Evelyn Darcy."

She turned around, offering her hand for him to shake. Her eyes caught his, and they both started in shock. Somehow maintaining a calm exterior, he took her offered hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She caught the hint, and pushed the shock from her face. "Likewise. I'm a huge fan of yours, there isn't a piece of music you have composed that I haven't fallen in love with." She smiled, but it didn't entirely reach her eyes, which were filled with longing, just as he suspected his were. It was taking every inch of his self control not to pull her into his arms then and there and never let go again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Prime Minister move off with an air of accomplishment. Maybe he liked the guy after all. A few seconds later, the band began to play; with a smile he recognized the song. It was one of his more modern ones, written for a movie several years before.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, knowing full well that the answer would be yes. At her nod he led her onto the dance floor, pulling her into his arms.

She was in shock. Four thousand years of believing him gone, and there he was, the person whose music held a special place in her heart. And now she was in his arms, at least as much as she could be, in front of people who believed them to have only just met. She resisted the urge to rest her head on his chest, it would have been considered too intimate for sober strangers, even in this modern era. She tensed as he leaned forward, and whispered in her ear.

"You have no idea how much I have missed you,"

She almost melted, only his hand on her waist kept her upright. Running her thumb across his shoulder, she caught his eye again. She couldn't name the emotions present in his eyes, it was obvious to her though that he was fighting the urge to drag her out of the party, and into his arms. She leaned forward, and whispered in his ear,

"I have a fair idea. How long do you think we'll have to wait to escape?"

He made a quiet growl as he pulled her close and into a drop. Leaning close to her face, he replied,

"We could always leave now, and bugger politeness."

She had to laugh at that. "No, I've only just arrived."

Pulling her back upright, he grinned. "You were late. I'd been there for half an hour before you arrived. You go shake some hands, and then we leave."

Letting her go, he let her walk off into the crowd. He resumed his post near the window, watching the overall proceedings, but generally just her. As he saw her working her way over to the Prime Minister to make her excuses, he moved out of view behind the potted palm, and slipped out of the window. He crept around to the main entrance just as she left.

They stood there for several moments, staring at each other. Eventually, he made the first move. Holding out his hand, he said,

"It's a lovely night for a walk milady."

The smile that lit up her face warmed his heart. She stepped forwards and placed her hand in his.

"That it is, kind sir."

He squeezed her hand tightly in response, and led her in the direction of the harbour. They walked the short distance in silence, both still in shock, disbelieving that the person holding their hand was real, and that they were going to wake up any second in tears, because it would have just been another dream. They were beside the spotlighted museum when he stopped suddenly, turned, and pulled her into a crushing embrace, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. She reciprocated in kind, just to make sure that it wasn't a dream, that he was really holding her. They remained like this for long moments, the skirt of her dress flapping in the south westerly wind blowing off the harbour.

He pulled back slightly, tracing a line up her neck, over her jaw, and across her cheek with his nose, stopping when he reached her nose. Blue eyes met green, and then he kissed her. She gasped, hundreds of thoughts wheeling through her mind, followed by pleasant blankness as she became utterly absorbed in the moment. All too soon he pulled away, she barely suppressed a sigh as he took her hand and led her over to a nearby seat, pulling her down onto his lap. He rested his cheek on her back, gazing out into the harbour.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered. "I came to Ithilien as soon as word arrived, only to find the corpses of Orcs and our people. There was no sign of you, or the elflings. We followed the tracks as far as the borders with Haradwaith, before Aragorn called us back. I didn't want to go, Gimli and Faramir were forced to knock me out and keep me unconscious until we returned to Minas Tirith. I awoke to see Aragorn asleep in a chair on one side of my bed, and Arwen standing on the other. I didn't need to say anything, she just held me while I sobbed. I never got to look for you as far south as I wanted to, when you never returned to Gondor, I gave up waiting and assumed you had been killed..." He cut off with a choked sob.

She slipped off his lap and cupped his face with both hands, brushing away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks.

"The choice not to return wasn't made by me, that choice was the will of the Valar. I had just barely managed to rescue three abducted elflings, only two of whom were old enough to talk, from the band of Orcs that had attacked Ithilien. It took two generations of men for them to feel safe enough to leave our refuge on the coast of Haradwaith; I assumed you would have sailed by then, so I chose not to look for you. I knew that elves would have faded to a mere legend by that point, so we assimilated into mortal society," she told him gently. "If I had known you were still in Middle Earth, nothing would have stopped me from finding you."

He smiled as she gently pulled him down for a lingering kiss. Pulling away he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head, grinning as he felt her snuggle into his chest. Dropping a kiss into her hair, he continued where he left off.

"I still don't know why I didn't sail. Something told me that I would get no rest, just regret in Valinor if I did. Now, I'm glad I didn't. I travelled with Arwen to Lothlorien when she faded; and I found myself promising her that I would never give up hope, never fade. I stayed with Gimli until he died, then I travelled the wild for several hundred years. By the time I returned to civilisation, elves had become a myth, and the world was changing. Before I knew it, I was entangled in the Trojan War."

He stopped as he felt her stiffen. "You remember it?" he asked.

"I will never forget it," she replied. "I lost my first elfling then, to the cruelty of men. Oenone, the first wife of Paris, was Baneth, the daughter of Celondir. I warned her not to fall in love with him, but she did, and it destroyed her. You were involved in the war?"

He grimaced. "More than I care to remember. I was one of Achilles' Myrmidons. Probably the one who liked killing the least." He gently pushed her off his chest and peered at her face. "What about you, were you involved?"

The sheepish look in her eyes said it all. "Somewhat. I was disguised as a man on the walls of Troy, shooting anyone who came near. I was actually the one who shot Achilles; Paris couldn't draw his bow because he was shaking so much. I let him take the credit, for it, Troy needed a hero. Later I regretted showing him so much charity when he died, and Baneth threw herself onto his pyre," she told him, with an involuntary shudder.

He grinned, and bit back a groan as she nuzzled his neck. "I don't think this is the place for that love."  
He brushed a tendril of hair off her face, rubbing it between his fingers. "What did you do to your hair?" He noticed her ears for the first time. "And what in Eru's name did you do to your ears?!"

"With a thousand lies and a good disguise..." she began, only for him to cut her off.

"Don't quote The Offspring at me, I know why you did it, but damn that must have hurt!" He looked down at her bewildered as she started giggling. "What?"

"You've become so humanized," she told him, still laughing. "Compared to four thousand years ago, your language has become so much more colloquial it's almost vulgar. But, you're still the elf I fell in love with all those millennia ago.'' That was said with a shy smile as she reached up and gently brushed his hair back off his ear. He closed his eyes to relish the feeling of her fingers in his hair, and gasped when she gently pinched the tip of his ear.

"Two can play at that game," he told her, pulling her to her feet and kissing her roughly. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the ground. Placing her back on the ground, he broke the kiss, breathless he rested his forehead on hers, while running his thumb over the unfamiliar curve of her ear. He was rewarded when she tensed, and dropped her head to nuzzle into his shoulder.

"Where are you staying?" she asked him, aware of the presence of other people moving along the waterfront.

"I'm staying at the Intercontinental, good room service, comfortable bed..." he trailed off as she gently hit him. "What about you?"

"Strangely enough, the Intercontinental as well. Eru obviously decided that it was time for our paths to cross again," she laughed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

They turned and began walking arm in arm back in the direction they had come, enjoying the other's presence. Although, there were still some questions Legolas wanted to ask.

"How much did you have to do with that Tolkien fellow? You know the one that wrote all those books about us, because someone had to tell him of Middle Earth and its history."

Saeleth grinned. "I actually had nothing to do with it. His father told him."

"His father? How did he know about it?"

She sighed. "Tolkien's father was half elven. His father was Sarnon, the last of the three elflings I had rescued. He fell in love with a mortal, Tolkien's grandmother. He gave up his immortality for her, another one to add to the list of tragic relationships. Beren and Luthien, Aragorn and Arwen, Paris and Baneth, Legolas and Sa..." He cut her off by placing his hand over her mouth.

"I don't think there is any need to add our names to that list. We're hardly tragic, neither of us is dead due to love for the other, and we've found each other again."

"It's only by a happy chance that one of us isn't dead. We were supposed to be bound when you returned, if we had bound earlier..."

"If we had bound earlier we wouldn't be having this conversation, because you would have come to Minas Tirith with me, and wouldn't have felt you had to chase after the elflings. We would have left for Valinor together with Gimli, and had at least four elflings there..." He grinned at her reaction.

"Four elflings?! Two is all you're ever getting from me, considering I've already raised three by myself." He just caught the whispered "Terribly."

"Hey now, there's no need to talk like that. Considering the circumstances, you did wonderfully. You know more than anyone that there is no controlling who you fall in love with. What happened to the other elfling, Glawarien?" Legolas asked as he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Yes, Glawarien. Her tale is the saddest of all. Have you heard of the South American tales of La Llorona?"

"You mean The Woman in White?" He inhaled sharply. "Oh no, she can't be..."

"Yes, she is. But the stories are wrong, mostly. She fell in love with a mortal, bound himself to him, and bore his children. However, he soon grew tired of her, and married another woman. This woman was a jealous, vindictive bitch, and went around to Glawarien's home, telling her that she had married her lover. Glawarien didn't react in the way this woman wanted, so she went out to the river, where Glawarien's children were playing. She slit their throats, and threw them in the river. Glawarien lost it, attacked and killed this woman with her bare hands. Now, she wanders all the river systems in South America, searching for her children. She's still alive, but not at the same time. She's crazed; her mind is damaged beyond even the healing that Valinor could bring. She'll wander until the breaking of the worlds." Saeleth sniffed, swiping away a tear with her free hand.

Legolas was stunned. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"I hunted her down in Peru. She didn't recognise me at first, and then when she did, she told me everything eventually. I had to do some sifting of her words, but I worked it out. It reminded me of your description of Gollum; it was all half sentences and crazed mumblings. I hope never to see another first born in that state, it was heart wrenching. We aren't meant to grieve like that." Saeleth reached out and hit the pedestrian signal button hard.

Legolas gently nuzzled the top of her head, and made to step out onto the road. She pulled him back quickly.

"Are you mad? This is Wellington; jay walking may be the local pastime, but its suicide at this time of night! I swear the buses drop out of the sky, one moment they aren't there, and then they are. What, didn't you hear me?"

Legolas had walked out into the road again, pulling her with him. He pointed to the other side of the street, "The little green man says we can cross."

"Oh."

He chuckled, and kept a tight hold on her hand as they made it across the road without incident. Walking up to the entrance of the hotel, he turned to her and asked, "Stay with me tonight?"

She smiled gently. "You didn't need to ask. I was going to anyway. I'm afraid that if I let you out of my sight you'll disappear again."

He gently stroked the side of her face. "Never again. Forever and always?"

She grinned as he used his favourite phrase from when they were courting. "Always and forever," she replied, turning her head to kiss his palm.

He made a contented noise, and pulled his hand away. "Save that for when we get upstairs."

They walked into the foyer of the hotel, passed the reception desk and headed for the lifts. As the lift doors closed, Legolas reached out and brushed his hand over the necklace.

"You kept this for all these years?"

"Of course, it was one of the only things I had left that reminded me of you, apart from your knives."

Legolas grabbed her and kissed her soundly. "You have my knives? Thank the Lord; I thought the Orcs had taken them."

Saeleth laughed as the lift doors opened. "You really have become humanized. I never would have guessed that you would become this much engrained with mortal culture."

"You know, I don't find that remotely funny. In fact, I'm going to have to insult you. Your mother was a ham..." he began, only to be cut off by the woman in his arms.

"Ster and your father smelt of elderberries. Now who's making references to pop culture?" Saeleth asked as she leant on the wall next to his door while Legolas fished about in his wallet for his key card.

The door clicked open, and they stepped into the room. No sooner had the door closed than he had pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard. She gasped, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He stepped backwards, pulling her with him until his calves hit the edge of the mattress. They collapsed onto the bed, and were lost to each other for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Legolas lay propped on his elbow, tracing lines over her face, lingering on the scar on her jaw, and her broken nose. As they brushed over her lips, her eyes flickered open.

"You do know you sleep like a mortal?" he asked, not stopping the movement of his hand.

"Yes, the price of fitting in. It's become second nature to me now." She stretched, and pulled him down for a kiss. Letting him go, she asked, "I've told you about my history and the elflings history, what about you, how about what you did after the Trojan War?"

He sighed. "There's not that much to tell. I fought in a few more wars, got a few more scars. I went to ground at the time of the Spanish Inquisition; I didn't want to get caught up in their hunts. Befriended authors, got books written about me. I'm Dorian Gray."

She sat bolt upright at that revelation. "Really?"

"Really really. I don't really want to talk about the past now, we do have all eternity. Now, about your name. Why did you choose Evelyn Darcy, it's a nice name, but not particularly common."

"Same could be said about you, Liam certainly isn't common. I came up with it in the mid nineties; I had just read Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh and absolutely loved it, so I adopted his first name. I actually thought about calling myself Julia for a while, but I preferred Evelyn. And Darcy, well, you can guess."

"Yes I can," Legolas laughed. "You were another to fall for the charms of Colin Firth's Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice."

"Not fall so much, as appreciate what a fine specimen he is..." she tailed off as Legolas laughed harder. She retaliated by attempting to hit him with a pillow, which was easily deflected, and ended up pinned to the bed being thoroughly kissed.

He pulled away slightly. "I'm sorry about last night, if you felt you had to bond with me; I should have waited, rather than a couple of hours after seeing you for the first time in four thousand years. Are you okay?"

She grinned. "Don't be silly. It has been four thousand years, but we were going to bind the next time we saw each other. Its just the betrothal period has been a bit longer than the preferred year. And I wouldn't have been able to hold back either."

"Did I ever tell you how glad I was when you came to Ithilien with me? I'd loved you since I met you, and I knew that I had a greater chance of wooing you away from court." He told her, resting his chin on her chest.

"You did tell me, uncountable times. Now shut up and kiss me again."

He grinned, and complied. "Yes my lady."

_Fin_


End file.
